Are You Ready for the Zombie Apocalypse?

“What should I get my sister for her birthday?” Sush asked Jerm-jerms.

They drove through the tiny itty-bitty rural village of Chattanooga, watching the wizened hillbillies hunch over their copper stills of Moonshine.

Jerm-Jerms pointed at a shirtless man who had gone blind from the methane gnarly distilled liquor and replied, “I thought you just did that zombie thing for Edean-“

“I did. The point of his gift was that I have to figure out gifts for her twice,” she said.

“So you lean into it.” Jerms continued.

“Okay…”

“So, like, she’ll need that punk lighter-“

“-but like this time, it should be REAL zombie fighting things!” Sush interrupted.

“Yeah, exactly, so like, a box of 9 mm-“

“but like stuff she’d actually use—”

“—yeah, so that box of 9 mm for her gun, and that lighter to start fires—”

“Wait! Did I send her Garlic? I won’t send her any more pickling spices. Wait. Should I? Is that useful?” Sush asked as they narrowly missed hitting a barefoot folklore witch who had wandered into the forlorn street.

“…yeah, um. So, like I said, the ammunition, fire, and then obviously—”

“THROWING KNIVES! A HELMET!”

“Uh okay, so the ammunition, fires, and the spear.”

“No.”

“Yeah, the spear you should have let me buy.”

“Oh my god. I did not say you couldn’t buy it.”

“You didn’t say I could,” he replied, coughing as they drove by a hoard of dirt-smeared children chain smoking cigs on the broken porch of their single-room wooden shack.

“Okay, but no. The shipping. It’s too expensive.”

“Not with Pirate Ship. You can send anything cheap with Pirate Ship.”

“Well. When you’re right, you’re right.”